


Going Errant

by stew (julie)



Category: Black Dragon Series - R. A. MacAvoy, Once and Future King Series - T. H. White, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across The 8th Dimension (1984)
Genre: Arthurian, Crossover, Gen, Ripping Yarn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1988-07-16
Updated: 1988-07-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22159597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/stew
Summary: Much to Rawhide's surprise, Buckaroo seems to have made time travel possible. A small party of Cavaliers end up in Arthurian England on a quest for a dragon…
Kudos: 1





	Going Errant

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** I remember I had so much fun writing this one, pulling three passions together! And I have to admit that the whole idea still delights me now, over thirty years later…
> 
> **First published:** in my zine “Samurai Errant: Cavalier Tales Quixotic and Profane” #1 on 16 July 1988

# Going Errant 

♦

“And mind you don’t catch cold, sleeping out tonight, dear,” Queen Pellinore concluded, patting King Pellinore’s armored knee, which was as far as she could reach even while standing on the mock battlements around the drawbridge. 

“Humph,” said Pellinore, and the visor of his helmet promptly fell with a clang, muffling his next words. The Queen chose to take them as some sort of endearment, and backed away with a smile on her face. Pellinore raised his visor again, and looked round at the three knights waiting patiently on the sward. “Tally-ho, then, what?” 

“Tally-ho,” agreed Sir Grummore, and they each dug their heels into their horse’s sides. Sir Dinadin and Sir Palomides, slim men in light modern armor on fleet-footed mounts, were a hundred feet away among the milling men, squires, boys and hounds before Pellinore and Grummore’s mounts had even managed a step. 

With a great deal of encouragement and kicking, the massive horses with their burdens pitched slowly forward into a walk. The crowd on the meadow separated to let Pellinore and Grummore through, then formed a loose and laughing throng behind them. 

The ladies lining the battlements and surrounding the Queen on the drawbridge started waving and crying goodbye in earnest. A few of the men waved lazily back, while the boys ran unheeding around the slow-moving questing party, playing some sort of game involving a lot of chasing and a ball. Dinadin and Palomides waved energetically at two particular ladies-in-waiting on the drawbridge. 

In the lead, Pellinore and Grummore laboriously set the easy pace, gazing eagerly ahead into the delightful spring day and the forests and hills rolling into the distance.

When four figures abruptly appeared out of thin air before them and dropped a foot or so into the lush green grass. 

In the sudden silence, and with-a great deal of trouble, Pellinore’s mount blundered to a halt before the prostrate bodies.

“Good grief,” said Sir Dinadin. 

The ladies, caught mid-wave, were a fluttering, colorful display of sleeves and handkerchiefs. 

The four figures, after a long stunned moment, scrambled to their feet. “Oh Lord, Buckaroo. Where in Hell are we?” Reno asked, his voice wavering somewhat higher than usual. 

“England,” hazarded Buckaroo. “Thirteenth century.” 

“Buckaroo – next time just _warn_ us if there’s a chance one of your contraptions is actually gonna _work_.”

“Rawhide, you have no faith.” 

“Hail,” said Pellinore, having finally found his voice. 

“Hail,” replied Buckaroo, stepping forward a little. Reno eyed the spring-blue sky suspiciously. 

“Did you come,” Pellinore pondered unbelievingly, “to join my quest for the dragon?” 

Buckaroo looked around at the avid and somewhat disapproving stares of Pellinore’s male subjects. “Yes.” 

Pellinore squinted hard at them. “Did Merlyn send you? Else, I cannot explain your precipitous arrival.”

“Not exactly. We come from your future.”

“Ah…” Pellinore nodded wisely. “That’s what Merlyn always says.” 

“Never saw it myself,” said Grummore, feeling on slightly safer ground. “It just doesn’t make sense, what?” 

Dinadin and Palomides shook their heads dumbly in agreement, Palomide’s fingers wandering of their own volition around to his sword hilt. Perfect Tommy edged behind Rawhide’s large frame. 

“By jingo, seeing as you’re here, what, you might as well come a-questing,” Pellinore said cheerfully. “We’ll find you some horses –” 

“There are no other horses, my King,” said Pellinore’s groom from over Pellinore’s horse’s rump. 

“Surely the wizards would not be interested in questing…” one man put in. 

“They have no armor, and the dragon is so awesome…” another added. 

“Such powerful wizards surely have other things to do…” finished Grummore’s squire.

“Oh, Pellinore!” puffed the Queen, having hitched up her skirts and run down from the drawbridge. Pellinore’s visor clanged shut. “These brave wizards would no doubt enjoy some morning tea after their arduous journey. I’m sure my ladies will not mind entertaining such illustrious personages at the castle.” 

“Humph,” said Pellinore, staring ahead through his visor. As one, the knights, men, squires and boys cast long, sour looks over Buckaroo and Perfect Tommy. 

“They’re coming with us,” chorused Dinadin and Palomides in quite definite tones. 

“Oh,” said the Queen, pouting. 

“Sorry, Piggy,” added Pellinore, digging his heels into his sturdy horse. It leaned forward, forward, teetered on the tips of its hoofs, and lumbered into a stroll. “Just hop up behind me,” Pellinore invited Buckaroo, leaning down to give him a hand up. 

Perfect Tommy and Reno got up behind Palomides and Dinadin. Rawhide lifted an eyebrow and said he’d walk. The group moved off behind Pellinore, to the somewhat less cheerful waves of the Queen and her ladies. 

The questing party soon topped a rise, and were out of sight of the castle. A cheer went up among the men. “Humph,” said Pellinore. 

When the noise died down, the sound of the ladies cheering could be heard on the breeze. “Humph,” said Dinadin and Palomides, hoping that two particular ladies-in-waiting weren’t so very glad at the men all going off a-questing. 

Very slowly, Pellinore twisted in his saddle towards Buckaroo. He could only get halfway round, so spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Didn’t catch your name, what?” 

“Buckaroo Banzai.” 

“Beg pardon?” 

“Just call me Buckaroo.” 

“Odd name, even for a wizard.” 

“I’m not a wizard. Just a human being like yourself.” 

“Humph.” Pellinore politely didn’t argue with him. “Name’s Pellinore.” 

“Hail.” 

“Hail.” Pellinore waved a heavy gauntlet in Grummore’s direction. “This chap’s Sir Grummore Grummersum, Knight of the Forest Sauvage.” 

“Hail.”

“Hail.” 

“And this is my good friend Rawhide.” 

“Hail,” chorused Pellinore and Grummore yet again. 

“Morning.” Rawhide politely tipped his hat. 

“And that’s Reno, and my blonde companion is Perfect Tommy,” said Buckaroo. 

“Tommy’s known as the Knight of the Lesser Boulevards,” Rawhide added, as straight-faced as he could manage. Buckaroo cast him a sour look. 

“The Lesser Boolee…?” Pellinore pondered. “French chap, is he?” 

Rawhide chuckled. “No, Buckaroo was just feeling poetic one day.” He seemed about to launch into a full explanation at Buckaroo’s expense, when he was interrupted. 

“And we’re off questing?” Buckaroo pointedly asked the King. 

“To catch the dragon. The Pellinore’s dragon. Only a Pellinore can catch it, don’t you know.” 

“Ah.”

“It’s been terrorizing the villages. Carrying off the maidens. Burning the cottages.” 

“It has?” 

“Well. Well, not lately.” 

“Actually, it’s a very _quiet_ dragon,” Dinadin put in, riding up beside them, grinning at Buckaroo.

“Just been feeling neglected, hasn’t it? I’ve been too busy getting married lately to go a-questing much.” 

“No one but Pellinore has actually _seen_ the dragon…” Dinadin added mischievously. 

“It’s a _particular_ sort of dragon,” Pellinore said, looking ahead again, with his back held very straight. “It’s particular about who it lets see it.” 

“Of course,” Buckaroo agreed. Dinadin laughed, but not cruelly. Reno muffled a chuckle. 

“Humph,” said Pellinore.

They rode on for a while, until they came to an idyllic small clearing in a valley, by a river, with exactly the right proportions of sun and shade. There was a sudden noise behind them as if a set of saucepans had been thrown to the ground. Buckaroo twisted around to see that the only man in armor other than the three knights and Pellinore had fallen off his horse. 

“Humph,” said Pellinore, not turning around or even attempting to stop his horse. Grummore continued on beside him. Dinadin and Palomides followed, though looking back anxiously as the rest of the party stopped to encircle the fallen man. 

Rawhide ran back through the crowd, but returned quickly to Buckaroo’s side. “He’s not hurt,” Rawhide said very quietly to Buckaroo’s startled query. 

Pellinore’s squire ran up. “He’ll have to be taken care of, my King. Copious injuries. I don’t believe we can continue.” 

“Humph,” said Pellinore. 

“If they don’t want to go a–questing,” Grummore pronounced, nose in the air, “then let them stay.” 

Palomides, Perfect Tommy, Dinadin and Reno started chuckling as they realized what had happened. “And that poor guy drew the short straw,” laughed Reno. 

“I hope they brought enough mead to ease his bruises,” commented Palomides. Ensuring Pellinore couldn’t see them, he rummaged around in his saddlebag, drew out his own flask of mead, and passed it around. The four of them followed the serious questing party slowly and slightly rowdily. 

It was just on eleven in the morning when they almost ran into the serious questing party stopped on a ridge, gazing down bemused at something in the next valley. Dinadin and Palomides brought their horses up beside where Rawhide stood, and looked down before them. There was a cave. And in the cave mouth was a very large and awesome dragon, smoke trickling peacefully from its nostrils. 

“Good grief,” said Sir Dinadin. 

“The dragon. The Pellinore’s dragon,” quavered Pellinore himself. “Don’t you know.” 

“After all, dash it all, Pellinore,” protested Grummore. “I didn’t know we actually had to _catch_ the thing today.” His voice tailed off weakly: “And I left my best sword at home…” 

“Good grief,” most of the rest of the party repeated. 

At their exclamation, the dragon lifted one sleepy eyelid and glowered at them a little curiously. 

“It’s all right!” Buckaroo cried. “It’s a Chinese black dragon. I’ve always wanted to meet one in the flesh. Maybe this is actually Oolong!” And he ran off down the slope.

“Good Lord! Buckaroo!” called the faithful Rawhide, reaching to take Grummore’s second-best sword from its scabbard before running after him.

The other six men stood amazed on the ridge, uncertain of what to do next. Below them, they could see Buckaroo bowing formally to the dragon, with Rawhide hovering protectively beside him, heavy sword at the ready.

The dragon lifted his head to regard Buckaroo talking energetically and respectfully before him. 

After a while, Rawhide lowered the sword, and was dispatched to climb back up to the rest of the party. “Oolong would like to know if you’d care for some tea,” was the message. 

“Oh, how civilized,” was Pellinore’s startled reply. “Charmed, I’m sure.” 

“Just in time for a spot of elevenses,” Grummore agreed. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

Pellinore and the knights dismounted, and they all made their way carefully down to the secluded little valley. Palomides and Dinadin took the four horses and set them to graze, while Rawhide led Pellinore and Grummore over to the dragon. 

Oolong lifted his head to look Pellinore levelly in the eye. “So we meet at last, King Pellinore,” he observed, a puff of smoke following his words. 

“Ahem, yes. How do you do?” The King stood uneasily under the dragon’s gaze. “Well, all that business, you know, about chasing you around…” 

“Yes?” 

“And boasting of whacking off your head…” 

“Yes??” 

“Well, it’s just a tradition really, you know, runs in the family, what? Never really enjoyed it much myself…” 

“He never did,” Grummore put in faintly though stout-heartedly. 

“A limited sort of way of life, don’t you think? What…?” Pellinore trailed off silence, shuffling his feet so that the silence was momentarily filled with clumsy clanking.

Oolong sat back on his hind legs. “I was just about to take a cup of tea. Will you do me the honor of joining me?”

“Delighted, I’m sure.” Pellinore sighed with relief, but didn’t visibly relax. 

Oolong stoked the fire and hung a kettle of water over it, while Buckaroo and Rawhide helped Pellinore and Grummore out of some of their armor so that they could sit more comfortably. The four of them gathered companionably around the fire. 

Perfect Tommy, Reno, Palomides and Dinadin meanwhile seemed quite settled a little way off with Palomides’ abundant supply of mead. At present, it appeared they were swapping lewd drinking songs of the thirteenth and twentieth centuries. The serious questing party chose to ignore them as best they could. 

“Rawhide,” Oolong asked, “would you be mother?” 

“Of course.” And Rawhide made the fragrant tea in a stout, green pot, and poured a cup each for Pellinore and Grummore, Buckaroo, Oolong and himself. Grummore was too over-awed to ask for milk with his. Instead he rummaged around in his pack for some cakes he’d stolen from the hall for his morning tea. They more than satisfied the whole party. 

Buckaroo and Oolong talked on about the world, the places they’d been, the past and present and future. Grummore and Pellinore listened in astonishment. Every now and then Reno or Dinadin’s voice grew a little rowdier and rang out over the quiet glade… 

_“Ther was also a povre closet queane  
He was ryght olde and somdel balde, I wene…” _

Pellinore and Grummore blushed furiously and paid great attention to Buckaroo’s anecdote of abseiling down Niagara Falls. There had been some very scientific reason for doing it at the time, but it had escaped Buckaroo’s memory for now. Rawhide, if he remembered, chose to be unhelpful. 

_“A well-bred young girl of Gomorrah…”_

Reno had launched into one of his famous store of limericks. Rawhide rolled his eyes heavenward. Oolong and Buckaroo honestly didn’t seem to notice. 

_“A young Harvard man, sweet and tender…”_

Reno started another limerick, as his last had been raucously received. 

The serious questing party stayed on for lunch. The others caught forty winks, lying sprawled together in the lush grass, and later woke refreshed to continue their earlier pursuits. Rawhide was relieved to note, however, that the songs now turned from lewd to maudlin. 

“You must come to tea more often, King Pellinore,” Oolong said, sitting back contentedly. 

“Humph,” Pellinore equivocated, though looking rather pleased. “Don’t have an education like Buckaroo here, eh? Don’t have so much conversation. Never been to the Fuji Falls or Mount Niagara, what?” 

“Nevertheless, I’d be delighted if you dropped by every now and then.”

“Happen-chance a spot of intelligent conversation would set you up proper, Pellinore, don’t you know?” Grummore chipped in. 

“Ah, yes. Charmed, I’m sure. Delighted…” Pellinore struggled to his feet. “But it really is time to be going, Grummore old fruit. Have to get back to the campsite by sundown, eh?” 

And with many formal bows to Oolong, and hearty handshakes for Buckaroo and Rawhide, the King and knight were off, warning Palomides and Dinadin to follow them soon. The valley was peaceful again. 

As Oolong and Buckaroo gazed reflectively into the fire, Pellinore’s voice could be heard floating back on the breeze: “The Pellinore’s dragon, what? Damned fine fellow. Friend of the family for _years_. What’s that, old fruit? Whacking off his head? Never! A right decent chap, visit him for tea…” 

Eventually it was time for Buckaroo and the Cavaliers to be leaving as well. 

Rawhide wandered over to the four inert bodies lying in the grass. “Tommy, Reno – the recall’s gonna pull us back in just under ten minutes. You’d better get ready to go.” 

A groan rose from one of the bodies. “Don’t think I’m quite up to time travel right now,” came Tommy’s voice. 

“Well, it’s now or never. Don’t bother thinking _I’d_ come back to get you,” Rawhide informed him, maybe a little more severely than was necessary. 

Reno and Tommy resignedly staggered to their feet and said their farewells to Dinadin and Palomides, complete with drunken embraces and many wishes of doing it again sometime. 

Buckaroo and the Cavaliers stood (or swayed) together in the evening light under Oolong’s interested gaze. 

“Hey!” Tommy suddenly cried out. “If we arrived here a foot off the ground, shouldn’t we _leave_ here a foot off the ground? I don’t wanna find myself up to my knees in the floor back home.” 

Buckaroo and Rawhide looked at each other skeptically. “It makes a modicum of sense,” Buckaroo was forced to admit. 

“I guess we’d better try it. We’ll know soon enough if we need to or not.” Rawhide looked at his watch. “Everybody ready? I’ll count us down: Three… two… one… Now!”

And Oolong gazed on bemused as the four figures leapt up in the air and vanished. “Fascinating creatures, humans,” he remarked to himself. “I don’t think I’ll ever quite make them out.”

♦


End file.
